


A New Skill

by ToyMouse



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:28:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26808901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToyMouse/pseuds/ToyMouse
Summary: Last night, he spent a late night with Jefferson. It was actually quite pleasant, surprisingly. Except...there was one thing that bothered the hell out of him: Jefferson's hair.Alexander had to do something about it.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/Thomas Jefferson
Comments: 8
Kudos: 70





	A New Skill

**Author's Note:**

  * For [superloonyluna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/superloonyluna/gifts).
  * Inspired by [What He's Lost](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26102221) by [superloonyluna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/superloonyluna/pseuds/superloonyluna). 



Alex groaned, pushing away from the table. He had about 6 different assignments to work on, but couldn’t seem to focus enough to get any work done. The books he pulled from the library shelves piled high around him, treacherous and teetering. As much as he needed to focus, and wanted to focus, it was a physical impossibility with all the real estate in his brain taken up by Thomas. Thomas, and his smile, and his laugh, and his hands, and his rapidly changing demeanor towards Alex, and his hair. Alexander could wax lyrical about Thomas’s hair. All from one short touch.

Groaning again in frustration, Alexander stood and gathered his papers into a neat bundle, shoving them into his bag. He carefully selected a few of the references he had accumulated on the table to check out from the library and put the rest away. Perhaps a change in scenery would help him get his work done.

It was a nice day, warm and bright, and perfect for laying out a blanket on the quad and soaking up some sun, which is exactly what he did, except for the blanket. Alex plopped right on the grass, gently warmed from the sun, and set the books down beside him. After a moment or two, he plucked a book from the pile and shuffled through the pages to find his place, and began jotting down notes and arguments to include in his essay. Feminine giggling broke through his concentration and he looked up to glare at the offenders. He had finally been getting some work done and these ridiculous girls were being loud, just sitting there, braiding each other’s hair.

“Mon petite chou?”

Alexander felt the hair on the back of his neck raise. He startled at the voice, broken from the trance that had trapped him. He tilted his head back to peer at his French friend.

“Can you teach me how to braid hair?” Lafayette’s eyes widened, and he stared at the other man, both curious and bewildered.

“Pardonnez moi? You want me to teach you what?”

“You know what? Nevermind. It was stupid.”

“Non, ami. It is not stupid. Why do you want to learn to braid?” Alexander froze for a brief moment, grasping for words that made sense. He jerked his head towards the gaggle of girls.

“It would probably be easier to manage my hair with a braid. I’m so tired of it always in my face. Even when in a tail it somehow still gets in the way.” There, that should do it. There was no need to mention his desire to… nothing. His desire for nothing.

Lafayette nodded thoughtfully. It was a reasonable request, after all. Nothing weird about it.

* * *

Braiding is weird and weirdly difficult, as Alexander quickly learns. Lafayette plaited his own hair, making the entire ordeal appear a simple task. Once Alexander looped the hair onto his own fingers, however, his friend had been forced to brush through his hair and start again. After many attempts and many failures, Alex finally seemed to understand the concept of braids. His hands, it seemed, were too small to grip the abundance of hair on Lafayette’s head firmly, allowing most of it to escape whenever he pulled it together. Small braids, nice, tight plaits, were much easier for him to manage.

Alexander returned to Lafayette’s room several more times to perfect his technique.

* * *

It was another late evening in the library for Alexander, however this time, rather than eventually ending at the same table as Thomas, he started there. The two of them bickered as usual, though on more amicable terms than before, both breaking into laughter every few minutes.

“Any essays due this week that have you in the library so late?” Alexander shook his head.

“I think I should be asking the same about you.” Thomas quirked a smile at his companion.

“Birds of a feather.” Alexander pulled a face, scrunching his eyes, crinkling his nose, and sticking out his tongue, mimicking disgust. Thomas laughed at his antics. “But yes, I have another essay for music due tomorrow. I’m almost finished though, just need to write the conclusion.”

“In that case,” Alexander stood from his seat at the table, clasping his hands together and stretching them above his head. A loud popping noise sounded, and he sighed in relief, smirking at Thomas’s grimace. “I’ll put my stuff away and be right back.” Thomas nodded, agreeing with the plan of action.

It wasn’t long until Alexander had returned each book to its rightful location and was returning to their table. He approached from behind Thomas, noticing the man once again running his hands through his hair, attempting to keep it from his face.

“Hey, do you mind if I do something?”

“Vague.”

“Shut up. At least I gave you warning.” Alexander reached his hands out and grasped the small portion of hair that looked like a hot mess on a silver plater, gently tugging the tangles into submission before braiding it quickly and tying off the end. Thomas’s shoulders were taut, some emotion Alexander could not pin down keeping every nerve on end. He struggled with himself, resisting the urge to run his hands over the tight muscle visible through Thomas’s shirt by burying his hands in his hair and beginning work on another braid.

Alexander and Thomas were the last ones in the library again. Thomas remained silent while Alexander continued to braid his hair, one tight little plait after another. The silence between them was thick with something that refused to be named. Eventually, when Alexander had completed braiding one half of Thomas’s hair, Thomas finally having bent over his essay to finish writing sometime before, Thomas spoke up.

“What are you doing?” Alexander’s hands stilled, terror and dread filling his frame, before he could control his reaction. He resumed his braiding, and a shiver raked through Thomas.

“Braiding your hair, idiot. What do you think I’m doing?”

“Excuse me, maybe I should be more specific.” Alexander snorted. “Why are you braiding my hair?”

“Because,” he began, his tone derisive and patronizing. “You keep messing with it and it’s pissing me off.”

“Ha! My hair, getting in my eyes, is pissing you off?” The seated man shook his head and huffed a disbelieving laugh. With his hands manipulating the soft curls, Alexander tugged gently at a single curl and watched as it sprung back into place. Thomas’s hair was thick but compliant, easier to work than Lafayette’s. It was undeniably more pleasing as well, to bury his hands within the locks. The smell of coconut wafted up and Alexander held his breath. The smell was intoxicating. He realized with a start, that he would only be able to associate this smell with Thomas, ever again.

He couldn’t understand why his heart was beating so fast. He had helped Eliza tie up her hair, and Lafayette allowed him to practice in his hair without Alexander reacting oddly. Lafayette also wore a rose-scented perfume occasionally that reminded Alexander of his mother, but that also never elicited such a reaction. Staring at the man in front of him, hands still twining the curls into braids, Alexander wondered if it was the heady feeling of strength and power. His rival was seated before him in a vulnerable position, trusting him. Thinking of it like that, Alexander was almost able to justify his racing heart.

Alexander spoke up again, having finished the previous braid and removed his hands from Thomas’s hair completely.

“Fine, would you rather I leave it like this then? Half braided?” Alexander rounded the table, resuming his previous position at the table. He propped his elbows up and leaned forward into his hands. He stared at Thomas, intense and examining, trying to gauge if any of the braids needed to be redone. Thomas opened his mouth to reply to the question, but choked on his words when Alex pressed out of his seat and reached across the table. His hands grasped at a braid close to Thomas’s ear, pulling the tie, and releasing the coils. His tongue peeked from between his lips in concentration as he re-plaited the hair.

The expression, and the amount of diligence and determination Alexander was putting into this small action struck Thomas. As Alexander pulled away, Thomas grasped his wrist.

“I’ve finished my essay. Would it be easier to go back to mine so you can finish my hair?” Alexander blushed to the tips of his ears, warmth radiating from his cheeks. “You will need to take these out though, so I can walk across campus without looking like a clown.” Alexander snorted loudly, blush beginning to fade.

“I must inform you then, that it’s too late for that.” Regardless, Alexander stood and made his way back around the table, pulling the ties from each of the braids as Thomas collected his things from the table. Alexander combed his fingers through Thomas’s hair, releasing the tight braids. He hadn’t noticed when the other stilled in his movements, too distracted by the ministrations, until a quiet sound reached his ears. Thomas, distracted by the comfort of fingers on his scalp, had closed his eyes and leaned into the feeling, a quiet moan escaping him.

When Thomas had realized the sound came from him, he stood, movements harsh and abrupt. “Well? Back to my room or not? I don’t have all day to entertain you, short stack.” Alexander puffed in annoyance. This was the Jefferson he recognized: biting, sarcastic, and mean. He opened his mouth, a biting comment at the ready.

“Excuse me? Short stack? I may be short, but I’m scrappy, and I will nip at your ankles until you’re at my level!” Alexander’s rant was cut short as Thomas began to laugh, quiet chuckles blossoming into loud, stomach aching laughter. Alexander stared, bewildered, as Thomas rested a hand on his head and ruffled Alexander’s hair.

“Adorable.” Alexander had whiplash from the swift change in Thomas’s tone. Everything was strange now, when dealing with him, and Alexander couldn’t figure out how to operate. He felt a blush rise when he realized Thomas still had a hand on his head and was smiling softly at him. Alexander reached up and grasped the hand, pulling it from his head, but not letting go.

“Shut up. Jerk.” Thomas chuckled again, and adjusted his hand to a more comfortable hold, before lifting his bag and Alexander’s from the table, and leaving the library.

Alexander stared at their entwined hands, lost to the meaning of it all.

* * *

Alexander yawned wildly when Lafayette greeted him at the start of their Progressive Human Rights lecture. After Thomas dragged him to his dorm, literally dragged as Thomas held his hand the whole way (nevermind that Alexander started the contact in the first place), Alexander got to work on the braids. They spent the rest of the evening hours and early twilight with each other. Without the world there to get in the way, Alexander found he liked Thomas Jefferson. The guy was sarcastic and mean, but he was honest and never held back his opinion. If Alexander were to be honest with himself, Thomas was a lot like him. If only because of their shared brutal honesty and sarcasm.

Alexander was not mean, thank you very much.

"Good Morning, Alexandre. We missed you at breakfast." Alexander had indeed not been at breakfast. Once Alexander had finished Thomas's braids the night prior, Thomas offered to provide dinner. Dinner ended up taking longer than necessary when Thomas brought out a bottle of wine. Alexander almost lost it and left right at the moment. Thomas was just that pretentious, blathering on about wine pairings and cheese and how this mac and cheese was made with Havarti and Butterkase, which paired wonderfully with Rose Cava. Alexander was infuriated that any of those words were now a part of his vocabulary.

He was forced to admit, however, that Jefferson was right. Dinner was delicious and the champagne really paired well, and by the time they had finished the bottle, it was 2 AM and Alexander was already falling asleep with his head on his host's shoulder. Four hours later, Thomas was shaking him awake, urging him to get back to his own dorm to change. Alexander tiptoed through the common area of Thomas's dorm (how had he ended up in his room?) and sprinted back to his room. A walk-of-shame without any of the associated pleasure.

Once he arrived at his room, he slowly pried open the door, fearing the usual squeak of the hinges and a sleeping roommate. He realized, after seeing the aftermath of a veritable hurricane in the room, that John was not there. Alexander checked the clock, and panicked at the hour. No wonder Thomas had been so insistent when waking him. If Alexander had stayed any longer, he would have been forced to wear yesterday's clothes to class. At this rate, Alexander would have to miss breakfast anyway.

"Ah, yeah. I stayed up too late studying and woke up late." Lafayette rolled his eyes. Alexander knew it was a flimsy lie, but it had happened before, so the Frenchman should have no reason to think anything different happened.

"Mon amis, that is a lie." Alexander sputtered at being called out so blatantly. "John said you were not in the room when he got up to leave this morning. Where were you?" Lafayette stared at him, single eyebrow raised expectantly. "Well?"

Alexander stuttered, attempting to come up with an answer. He hadn't done anything bad, but he felt like a scolded child under Lafayette's gaze. Suddenly, his mind filled with a million different scenarios of how his friend would react if he found out he'd-

"Gilbert, let me through. You're blocking the aisle." Thomas appeared behind his cousin as if summoned by Alexander's frantic thoughts. He smiled softly at Alexander when they made eye contact before continuing to glare at Lafayette, who stretched further into the aisle.

"Jolie cheveux, cousin." Lafayette was, of course, referencing the dozens of braids into which Thomas's hair was arranged. Thomas ran his hand over his head, smiling. Alexander fought a blush when they locked eyes.

"A friend decided to braid my hair. Said they were annoyed that I kept complaining about it without doing anything. Are you going to move?" Lafayette maintained his raised eyebrow, and it seemed that the eyebrow only rose with every additional word. The other rose to meet it when Thomas stepped over Lafayette and sat beside Alexander. They disappeared when Thomas leaned into Alexander to mutter something, Alexander bursting into laughter moments later.

The professor chose that moment to begin the lecture, forcing Lafayette to hold his tongue. He continued to watch his cousin and his friend, however. Thirty minutes into the class, when Alexander would usually have three pages filled with notes, he hadn't even opened his notebook, too busy whispering away with Thomas.

At some point, Lafayette noted, Alexander's hand drifted up into Thomas's hair, tugging on one of the little braids. Eventually, after some quiet words from Thomas, Alexander released the braid and replaited it. Lafayette was sure his eyebrows were going to rise off his face any moment now.

They had an extended lecture today and Lafayette was forced to watch the canoodling the entire time, and when the class was dismissed, Lafayette only watched in abject horror as Thomas stood and angled his head downwards for Alexander to examine his work, and check for any errors. Lafayette continued to stare as Thomas said a quick goodbye to Alexander, forgetting to acknowledge his cousin.

"Pardonnez moi, mais, what the fuck was that?" Alexander jolted, surprised at the harsh language, his hand falling to his side, from where it had been tugging at a lock of his own hair.

"What was what?"

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this to tumblr like...2 weeks ago but kept forgetting to put it here 😅
> 
> Hope y'all enjoyed it!


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